


STARTING OVER

by Rebel_Melinda



Series: FULL CIRCLE [3]
Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 09:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16762051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebel_Melinda/pseuds/Rebel_Melinda
Summary: "As long as things go as planned, we should be okay," Simon slowly nodded.  Blair suddenly grinned.  "Well, we know how often that happens, don't we, Simon?"  "Shut up, Sandburg."





	STARTING OVER

**Author's Note:**

> SEQUEL TO REGRETS

"Basically, Sandburg, you'll be a civilian consultant to the department...specifically Major Crimes." Simon Banks gently pushed a sealed envelope across the table. "This is the official offer from the Cascade Police Department outlining salary, benefits, and other things."

Blair Sandburg stared at the sealed envelope then at first Jim then Simon. Then he stared at the envelope again. 

The three men were sitting around the kitchen table at the loft. An observer would have been forgiven for believing they were discussing a trivial matter rather than a decision that would change their lives. Each man was casually dressed, Simon having hung his suit coat and tie on the rack next to the door.

"Chief?" Jim Ellison gently prodded.

Blair looked at his friend with a slight smile. "Just...processing." He took a deep breath. "This is cool, Simon. Thank you. I know that you really went to the mat for me on this."

Simon uncomfortably shrugged. "I'm well aware of the contributions you've made, Sandburg. I just made sure the Powers That Be understood it as well."

Blair gently tapped the envelope. "I have to go to the Academy, don't I?"

Simon nodded. "Not as an official recruit, however. The Commissioner and Mayor are concerned about weapons and self-defense training. You'll need to attend those classes. Since I don't see the actual classwork being that much of a challenge for you, I got permission for you to test out. However, if you don't pass any of the tests, you'll have to take those classes." His dark eyes twinkled. "And I found out you won't have to cut your hair unless you want to."

"Aww, gee, Simon. And here I was looking forward to a buzz cut," Blair chuckled. 

Simon glanced out on the balcony where Blair's attorney, Michael Hamm, was talking on his cell phone. "When's the press conference?"

"Tomorrow morning," Jim briskly answered. "I imagine the Commissioner might  
be getting some phone calls afterwards."

"As long as things go as planned, we should be okay," Simon slowly nodded.

Blair suddenly grinned. "Well, we know how often that happens, don't we, Simon?"

"Shut up, Sandburg."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**THE NEXT DAY**

Michael peeked around the corner at the gathering of journalists. He had decided to hold the press conference in one of the media rooms belonging to his firm. _'That way I can kick them out when I'm done with them,'_ he'd chuckled to himself.

Turning, Michael studied the two men behind him. Both were dressed in suits and ties for the occasion. He couldn't read anything in Jim's face except a possible distaste for the murmurs coming from the other room. Blair, however, was nervously straightening his jacket first buttoning then unbuttoning it then running a hand over his pulled-back hair.

"Remember," Michael quietly spoke. "Let me do most of the talking. That's what Berkshire Publishing and Rainier are paying for," he teased.

Blair suddenly smiled. "Yeah, they are, aren't they?"

"What if they ask either of us a direct question?" Jim asked.

"We'll play it by ear," Michael shrugged. "If I think it's okay for you to answer, go ahead. But don't volunteer more than you're asked." He glanced through the file in his hand then automatically patted his tie. "Ready?"

Blair exchanged a quick look at Jim, then took a deep breath before gently releasing it. "Yeah," he finally whispered.

Jim merely nodded when he heard his partner's answer.

Michael smiled reassuringly then led the way into the room.

Jim's acute hearing picked up various whispers as well as the sound of tape recorders and cameras being activated. It took all his restraint not to mimic his spirit animal and snarl at the entire group. For a few moments, he happily contemplated the idea of a black jaguar roaring at the reporters.

Michael stood behind the podium, with Jim and Blair standing behind him and to his left, then briefly smiled. 

"Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming on somewhat short notice. My name is Michael Hamm, and I am Blair Sandburg's attorney. I have a statement to read and then we will take brief questions." Pausing to make eye contact with as many reporters as possible, he then continued.

"As you know, six weeks ago you covered a story concerning a dissertation made public by Berkshire Publishing and Rainier University. That dissertation was the private intellectual property of Mr. Blair Sandburg who had never given permission for it to be made public. Mr. Sandburg's mother, in understandable but misguided attempt to help her son with his academic career, e-mailed this particular piece of intellectual work to Mr. Sid Graham of Berkshire Publishing. Mr. Graham and Ms. Sandburg are friends of many years. Ms. Sandburg asked her friend to review this work for editorial comment only."

Michael paused again. Raising his voice slightly, he stared into one television camera. "I repeat, Mr. Graham's assistance was requested for editorial comment only. Nothing else. On his own, Mr. Graham decided that my client's work should be published. When he contacted Mr. Sandburg with an opening offer of $100,000.00, my client immediately refused. Mr. Graham then decided to release parts of this intellectual work out of context against my client's specifically stated wishes in an effort to gain Mr. Sandburg's agreement for publication. Mr. Graham also advised my client that he would receive a great deal more money if he agreed for this material to be published."

Michael sighed. "At that point, for whatever reasons that I'll leave to the journalists in this room to discern, Rainier University in the person of Chancellor Katherine Edwards also decided that this work should be made public. Again without my client's consent."

Michael paused, carefully watching the reporters' expressions. "As you know, at the same time, a union official named Jack Bartley was being stalked by a hired assassin. The Cascade Police Department was in the process of not only protecting Mr. Bartley's life but also trying to apprehend this assassin before anyone was injured. Unfortunately, the publication of Mr. Sandburg's intellectual work created an atmosphere which made their job nearly impossible." 

Michael glanced over his shoulder at Jim who stood at parade rest staring out at the group of reporters. Repressing a smile, he looked back at the reporters. "Specifically, Detective Jim Ellison, while in the performance of his duty, was publicly stalked by the media. While we are not pointing fingers at the media, realizing that you also have a job to do, we are pointing out that the media's continuing obsession with this story was a contributing factor to what occurred."

This time Michael glanced at Blair who nervously swallowed. "My client felt he had no choice but to publicly disavow his own work. Too much of it had been taken out of context and thrown into the public arena. Not only was Mr. Bartley's life put at risk, but as it turned out, members of the Cascade Police Department were injured when the assassin, one Klaus Zeller, tried to murder Mr. Bartley within the police department itself. Inspector Megan Conner and Captain Simon Banks were the most gravely injured while Detective Ellison was shot trying to apprehend the assassin."

Michael opened a file. "At this time, I will read statements from both Berkshire Publishing and Rainier University. If you have any questions about these statements, you will need to contact Berkshire Publishing or Rainier University." He cleared his throat.

"Berkshire Publishing greatly regrets the recent actions of Mr. Sid Graham. We endeavor to conduct ourselves in accordance with the highest ethical standards. We have enjoyed a long history within the publishing field and take our responsibilities very seriously. While words cannot adequately express our regret, we nonetheless extend our most sincere apologies to Mr. Blair Sandburg, his friends and family. Mr. Graham has been disciplined according to our company policy and had been reassigned." Michael closed  
the file. "That statement was issued by Mr. Charles Van Horn, CEO of Berkshire Publishing."

Opening a second folder, he cleared throat. "I also have the following statement from Rainier University."

"In the excitement that accompanies any new discovery, it was assumed that Mr. Blair Sandburg's dissertation was a finished product. Unfortunately, in the disappointment that accompanied Mr. Sandburg's press conference, disciplinary measures were taken which were completely inappropriate. Rainier University sincerely apologizes to not only Mr. Sandburg but also to anyone else who was inadvertently affected by our actions. Rainier University has taken the appropriate administrative actions as well as a comprehensive review to ensure these actions are not repeated."

Michael closed the folder. "This statement was issued by Dr. Reginald McGuire, Chairman of the Board of Regents of Rainier University."

Michael calmly folded his hands and rested them on the podium. "In closing, one could call this entire situation as a comedy of errors except that people were hurt both physically and professionally. Hopefully, this will clear up any questions or misunderstandings about what occurred." He smiled. "We will now take your questions." He held up his hand as several reporters started shouting. "In an orderly fashion, if you please." 

"Don Haas, Channel 8 News. If Mr. Sandburg's dissertation wasn't about Sentinels, what is it about?"

Michael glanced at Blair who stepped to the podium and cleared his throat.

"My **original** dissertation was about historical Sentinels, a subject I've been fascinated with since I was a child. Sir Richard Burton, the explorer, first reported sentinels to the world at large. These were individuals who possessed heightened senses such as sight and hearing. They were guardians and protectors of their tribes in ancient times. Stories about these guardians have been found in many ancient cultures as well as in some remote tribes of South America, for instance."

Blair's voice momentarily faltered. "I searched for several years, convinced that these gifts could not have possibly have been bred out of existence. I did find people who exhibited an enhanced sense. For instance, I found a wine taster in Italy who had an enhanced sense of taste. I also found several people with an enhanced sense of scent working within the perfume industry. Convinced I would find someone with all five enhanced senses, I began work on my dissertation."

Blair took a deep breath to relax. "Part of my documentation included the problems these people face. For example, one individual I studied works in the perfume industry. The downside, however, is that she smells everything so intensely. Imagine being about to smell the person next to you. Or gasoline fumes every time you drive your car. Or the dumpster outside your apartment building."

Blair smiled as he saw a couple of the reporters wrinkling their noses. "Yeah, I think you get the idea. Now imagine the same thing with an enhanced sense of taste. You go to a restaurant and taste every ingredient...every spice...the sweetness of sugar...the sour tang of vinegar." He suddenly grinned. "Imagine tasting every ingredient in a fruit cake."

Several people groaned then began laughing.

"So I questioned what would be the difficulties of someone who had all five enhanced senses and lived in today's society?" Blair waved his hands, starting to relax as he lectured. 

"Why Detective Ellison?" Don Haas questioned.

"I had recently met Detective Ellison and immediately thought of him as a role model," Blair calmly explained. "His previous military experience as well as his current occupation fit perfectly with my idea of a tribal guardian. I obtained permission to ride with him and considered how his actions would be both positively and negatively affected by these enhanced senses."

"Wendy Hawthorne. Channel 2 Action News. You said this was your original dissertation. This isn't the dissertation you planned to use in obtaining your doctorate?"

"I realized the dissertation I'd worked on for so long was flawed." Blair hesitated, then continued. "I won't deny that I was, and am, very disappointed with this decision. I'd worked very long and very hard on this project. It's still a topic that both intrigues and inspires me. But it's not a topic for a successful dissertation. It is, however, a topic that I will continue to research and study for my own education."

He half-smiled. "I'd also like to say that I was guilty of a horribly elitist attitude as a result of my own ignorance. I'd focused strictly on one group of the police department, specifically Major Crimes. I've since come to realize that our guardians are the entire police department. Those men and women in uniform on the streets every day are just as important as the detectives. As are members of the fire department and the EMT services. And while there are always those among our guardians who put themselves first or use their position against the people they are sworn to serve, the vast majority of the people I've observed deserve our respect and gratitude."

"Frances Cochrane of the Cascade Times. Several years ago, Detective Ellison testified..."

Michael immediately stepped forward to the microphone. "We're not going into any specific legal cases, ladies and gentlemen."

Blair put a hand on the lawyer's arm. "Are you referring to the Juno case?" he asked the reporter. When she nodded, he smiled at the attorney. "I think I can clear this up."

Michael momentarily hesitated, then stepped back. "As you know, Detective Ellison served in the military as a US Army Ranger. Individuals selected to be Rangers sometimes have special abilities. It's been documented that some athletes and astronauts have better than 20/20 vision. In the Juno case, Detective Ellison's vision could not be substantiated in a court of law because adequate supporting documentation would have to come from classified sources. This supporting evidence would be much more than simply reading the bottom line of an eye chart." He again waved his arms. "And that, frankly, had nothing to do with the Juno case. The defense attorneys involved would have simply used that as a distraction from the facts."

"Detective Ellison, do you have anything to say?" Wendy asked.

Jim slowly stepped towards the microphone. "All I have to say is that I've known Blair Sandburg for several years. And I've found him to be one of the most honest and ethical individuals I've had the good fortune to know."

"Cary McBride. Cascade Enquirer. Just what **is** your official dissertation topic, Mr. Sandburg?"

Michael bristled at the young man's sarcastic tone of voice. He was pleased to see that more than a few of the reporters in the audience openly disapproved of the tabloid reporter's demeanor. 

"Police and Associated Subcultures," Blair immediately replied. "I explore the 'us versus them' mentality both within and outside the police department. With the media, for instance." He flashed a quick grin and wiggled his eyebrows, causing a few of the reporters to laugh in response.

"Detective Ellison, are you a Sentinel?" McBride quickly asked.

Jim leaned towards the microphone. In a patient voice normally used to explain simple matters to young children, he replied, "I'm a cop. I don't wear a cape. I don't see through walls. I don't leap over tall buildings with a single bound. I **am** good at my job thanks to years of training from both the Cascade Police Department and the US Army. But I can't do my job with cameras and microphones in my face. No one can. Hopefully, this press conference will allow me to go back to doing my job; and you can find a story that's worth reporting."

"Julie Wright. Rainier University Radio. Mr. Sandburg, can you discuss the terms of any settlement you've reached with Rainier University and Berkshire Publishing?"

Blair looked at Michael who stepped forward, gently easing both Jim and Blair away from the microphone. "While the specific terms of any settlement would remain confidential, I **can** confirm that Mr. Sandburg will present his doctoral thesis to Rainier University for defense when it is completed. He will be accorded the same opportunity to graduate with his degree as any other student." Genially smiling, he concluded, "I think that covers it. As I said, if you have any questions regarding the statements from Rainier University or Berkshire Publishing, you will need to contact them. If you have any other questions, you may contact my office. Thank you for coming."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**ONE WEEK LATER**

Simon Banks couldn't accuse any of his detectives of shirking their duties. After all, paperwork did need to be completed. It was just unusual that all the Major Crimes detectives were present in the bullpen all afternoon. _'And, of course, it's just coincidence that today's the day Sandburg tests out at the Academy,'_ Simon thought in amusement.

Silently acknowledging the deviltry that lurked inside him, Simon casually walked into the bullpen intending to see what was occupying his detectives' attention. _'After all, it shouldn't take **that** long to complete paperwork,'_ he decided. He'd just stopped by Joel's desk, when the door to the bullpen opened. He turned to see a grinning Blair Sandburg walking towards Jim's desk.

"Hey, Hairboy! How'd it go?" Henri called out.

Blair stood next to Jim's desk and rocked on his heels. 

"He passed," Jim calmly interjected as he signed his name to a report.

"Well, of course he passed," Joel remarked. "The question is how well did he pass?"

"Final score of 99," Blair announced with a wide grin.

Jim looked up with a frown even as the others cheered. "What did you miss?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure," Blair shook his head. "The one point deduction came from the essay question."

"Who was the instructor?" Simon asked.

"Sgt. Ted White."

Rafe groaned. "I remember him. His grade of 99 is everybody else's 100. He just doesn't believe in perfection."

"Oh, thank God." Blair leaned against the corner of Jim's desk and dramatically sighed. "I couldn't figure out what I'd done wrong."

"Congratulations, Blair." Joel crossed the room and gave the younger man a quick hug. "We're all proud of you."

"Aww, thanks, Joel," Blair whispered in return.

"So all you need to do is weapons training and self-defense," Jim nodded. "That'll give you time to finish your dissertation."

"Which reminds me..." Blair turned and dug into his backpack. "I need you guys to sign releases so I can use the cases you were involved in as case studies."

"No problem," Joel smiled.

Blair handed out the papers. "You just need to sign and date the bottom of the form and check the box that you've read and understood it." 

Joel scanned the paper. "You need the full name, right. Not just middle initial?"

"Yeah," Blair nodded.

"So when do you have to turn in your dissertation?" Simon asked as he signed the form.

"Three weeks," Blair grimaced. "So I'm sorta gonna be out of here for a while." He lowered his voice. "But if I'm needed for anything…"

"You'll be the first to know," Simon promised, ignoring the glare Jim was throwing in his direction.

"Here you go, Sandy." Megan folded the form and put it into Blair's hands. "Don't lose it," she warned.

Jim signed his form and handed it back to Blair. "Well, I'll do my part by taking care of dinner for a while."

"Yeah...right. Like we're gonna eat Wonder Burger every night for the next couple of weeks," Blair grunted. "I don't think so, Ellison."

Jim snapped his fingers. "Can't blame a guy for trying," he grinned.

Blair tucked the signed forms into a folder then slid his backpack over one shoulder. "Okay, guys. I'm outta here."

"Don't work too hard," Henri laughed.

"Gee, thanks, H," Blair grinned.

Simon waited until Blair had left before turning to Jim. "You going to teach him some self-defense?"

Jim nodded. "He used to spar with Sweet Roy, so he knows some boxing moves. I'm just gonna show him a few things so he won't be at such a disadvantage in class."

"And the firing range?"

Jim shrugged. "I figured I'd take him over there tomorrow evening and just let him shoot a little. Then I can see what he needs to concentrate on." He opened a file and didn't notice the looks on his friends' faces.

As the elevator descended, Blair double-checked the signed forms to be sure he had them all.

Joel Isaac Taggart  
James Joseph Ellison  
Simon David Banks  
Henri Michael Brown  
Brian Christian Rafe  
Megan Gertrude Conner

_'Gertrude?!'_ Blair quickly stuffed the forms back into the folder and clutched it against his chest. _'I'm dead if **that** ever gets out!'_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**THE NEXT DAY**

Sgt. Max Worth had been the firing range supervisor for almost ten years. One of his guilty pleasures was watching the academy cadets put in extra practice. Some came with cocky self-assuredness that they could hit any target at any time under any circumstances. And they were full of reasons why they failed since very few admitted that they simply couldn't achieve marksmanship status without practice.

Then there were those who came in having already half scared themselves, positive they were going to either accidentally shoot themselves or someone else. Sometimes they would turn out to be the best shots. Sometimes they couldn't even fire the weapon.

But the young man that Ellison almost literally dragged to the range late one afternoon looked like he'd rather be anywhere else but was smart enough not to say it.

"Afternoon, Ellison." Max slowly nodded.

"Hi, Max. How's it going?" Jim smiled.

"Two years, four months, and sixteen days until retirement," Max automatically replied, patting his stomach that was beginning to push against his uniform.

"And they'll drag you outta here kicking and screaming in protest," Jim chuckled. He tapped Blair on the shoulder. "My partner, Blair Sandburg. He's going to be an official consultant to the department so he needs some range time."

Max nodded at Blair, taking in the pulled-back long hair and the one earring in the left ear. Then he fixed his eyes on the younger man's hands. "Think you need to start out with a .38," he judged. "I don't think you're ready to handle something like Ellison's Sig."

"Sounds good to me." Blair forced a smile. When Max turned to get the weapon and ammunition, he nudged Jim. "Jim, I can do this on my own. You don't need to..."

"Look, Sandburg, I'm happy to help, okay? Give you a couple of pointers so you won't feel out of place when you come here with the cadets." Jim gently slapped Blair on the back. "That's why I chose this time of day. There's usually no one else shooting so there won't be any distractions." 

"I know you want to help and I really appreciate it, but..."

"Okay, here you go." Max put a gun on the counter. "Standard issue .38. She's a little old, but you know what they say about age and experience, huh, Ellison?"

Jim chuckled in appreciation as he examined the weapon. "Okay, Sandburg, this isn't going to be all that difficult."

Blair stifled a sigh and leaned against the counter.

Max's dark eyes moved from one man to the other. Then he grinned to himself when the door opened. "Hello, Captain Banks."

Jim dropped the gun onto the counter and turned to see not only Simon but also Joel, Rafe, Henri, and Megan walking towards them. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Oh, great," Blair muttered under his breath.

"We just thought we'd give Sandburg some pointers," Simon answered with a smile.

"I thought it was understood that I would be his shooting instructor," Jim stiffly replied.

"No offense, Jim, but that's like having your dad teach you to drive," Joel gently smiled.

"Its not that...excuse me? I taught Daryl to drive!" Simon snapped.

"I thought Daryl took Driver's Ed," Henri frowned.

"I got cheaper insurance rates if he passed Driver's Ed," Simon growled. "Do you know what the insurance rate is for a teenaged boy?"

"With all due respect, what does that have to do my with teaching Sandburg to shoot?" Jim asked.

"Look, Sandy is closer to my size," Megan pointed out. "So my stance is probably going to be more what he'd use." She smiled at Blair. "No offense, Sandy."

"None taken." Blair waved a hand in dismissal.

"All I'm saying, Jim, is that you might be a little less forgiving of any mistakes he'd make," Joel pointed out.

"Not that any of us would forgive mistakes, but we'd probably be a little more understanding about them," Rafe grinned.

Blair turned away and motioned to Max. "Can you set up a target for me?"

Eyes twinkling, Max motioned for Blair to follow him. He watched as Blair slowly but competently loaded the gun then put on earphones. When he'd set the target, he nodded to Blair and reached for his own earphones.

"I appreciate your intentions, but it's better if he only has one instructor," Jim protested. "Too many people giving him too many different ways of shooting is only going to get him confused."

Blair turned around and shrilly whistled. He grinned when he saw that Jim wasn't the only one to wince. "You guys might want to cover your ears," he called out. As he turned around to the target, he muttered, "And you need to dial it **way** down, Jim."

Before anyone could speak, Blair raised the pistol, aimed, and fired six shots. Then he lowered the weapon to the counter in front of him and took off the earphones, placing them next to the pistol.

"You know, I never said I didn't know how to fire a gun. I said that I didn't like them. And I don't." Blair casually crossed his arms and waited as Max activated the machine to bring the target up-range towards them.

"I'll be damned," Rafe muttered with a surprised look on his face.

"I learned to shoot a gun before I was allowed to join my first expedition. I was eighteen, and we were headed to Africa," Blair explained. "After all, a charging rhino isn't going to understand you when you say that you've come in peace and want to learn about his culture." He studied the target for a few seconds. "And if you only injure a territorial lion, he's just going to be pissed off. Imagine my surprise when I turned out to be very good at hitting my target." He nodded to Max with a smile. "Thank you, sir."

"My pleasure. Look forward to seeing you with the cadets," Max snickered.

"See you in the truck, Jim," Blair called out as he walked away. He turned around at the door. "And, guys? Thanks for the offers to help."

Jim stepped closer to where the target was hanging. The others quickly followed.

"One shot to each lower leg. One shot to each shoulder. One shot to the heart. One shot to the head." Max pointed out.

"Four wounding shots and two killing shots," Simon nodded in agreement.

"Hairboy's been holding out on us," Henri grinned.

"No, we just assumed facts not in evidence," Megan shook her head in disbelief.

"Wonder if I even need to offer to help him with self-defense?" Jim grunted.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**THREE WEEKS LATER**

Blair limped into the loft knowing that Jim's truck was gone and he could slam the door without hearing the bellow of a protesting Sentinel.

**SLAM!**

"Sandburg!"

"Shit!" Blair stood in the kitchen and glared at the open door of his room. "What are you doing home? Your truck's not outside!"

Jim appeared in the doorway, hands on hips. "One. I live here. Two, I finally found the kits to brace the window in your room. Three, I had the afternoon off so I could fix the window in your room. Four, the truck's in for a front-end realignment. I got a ride home with Brown."

"I'm sorry." Blair ran a hand through his hair then turned towards the refrigerator. "It's just been a hell of a day."

Jim watched as the younger man winced as he opened the refrigerator door then winced a second time as he reached inside for a bottle of water. "Self defense class, huh?"

Blair grunted. He drank half the bottle then sat down at the table. "You know, I really appreciate it that you taught me some nifty moves. Okay? But it seems that ever since I dumped Kelly on his ass not once but three times, mind you, I seem to have this target painted on my back."

"Yeah, somebody's always ridin' into town to try and take down the fast gun," Jim drawled.

"Bite me," Blair calmly retorted. He drank the rest of the water and tossed the plastic bottle into the recycling bin. "I really prefer the days when I'm teamed up with Danny Spencer. We're the same height and weight. That's a challenge."

"If you feel like it, I'll show you a couple more nifty moves for the next time you get teamed up with B.A. Kelly." Jim suddenly snickered. "Bartholomew Aloycious Kelly. No wonder he has an attitude." His blue eyes twinkled. "Especially when someone leaked what his initials stand for."

Blair raised his hands. "I am so innocent, man, despite the rumors."

Jim snorted and turned back to Blair's room. "Take a hot shower. It'll help."

"Took one at the academy," Blair called back as he thumbed through the mail on the table. "I couldn't have managed the drive back if I hadn't. Then I spent some time tutoring Danny on report procedures. Guess the experience of doing your reports is coming in handy." Grinning at the snort from his room, Blair took the copy of Sports Illustrated and tossed the rest of the mail to one side. "You need any help in there?"

"No. I'd rather get it done today and without a trip to the ER to patch you up," Jim called out. "But you can help with the clean up."

"Big surprise there," Blair muttered as he stretched out on the couch.

"I heard that."

Blair stuck his tongue out in the general direction of his room.

"I heard that, too."

Despite himself, Blair grinned. He was soon immersed in an article reviewing the upcoming basketball playoffs. He glanced up when he heard someone knocking on the door. Hearing the drill in his room, he realized Jim had probably turned his hearing down to the point he couldn't hear the knocking.

Blair tossed the magazine onto the nearby table and got to his feet. The drilling stopped just as he opened the door.

"Carolyn....um...hi...come in." Blair stepped back, allowing Jim's ex-wife to enter the loft.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you're still here," Carolyn Plummer remarked as Blair shut the door behind her.

"What?" Blair looked at her in confusion.

"I figured it was too much to assume that if you didn't have the decency to leave after the mess you caused, then Jim would have had the common sense to kick you out."

Blair automatically glanced at the open door of his room. "Uh, Carolyn, Jim's..."

"Jim's far too trusting for his own good is what Jim is. But then, you figured that out, didn't you?" Carolyn interrupted. She tossed her jacket and purse onto the kitchen table. 

"Why are you here?" Blair asked. _'Dammit, Jim, you may want to give her enough rope to hang herself, but I don't like being the hangman!'_

"I came back to see how Jim is doing," Carolyn explained. "Even if we're divorced, we're still friends." She narrowed her eyes. "I warned him about you."

"Really?" Blair crossed his arms over his chest.

"How could you put Jim's name in that piece of garbage you called a dissertation?" Carolyn angrily demanded.

"Piece of garbage?" Blair angrily took a step forward. 

"And you have the nerve to still be here, leeching off Jim!"

"Leeching?!" Blair started waving his arms. "Listen, lady, I don't know where you get off coming in here and talking trash about stuff you don't know anything about, but let me tell you..."

"Oh, shut up, Sandburg!" Carolyn snapped. "I heard all the talk at the station about how you could talk your way into or out of anything. But you don't fool me one minute! Somehow you've managed to hoodwink Jim into thinking that he has to take care of you." She stepped forward. "You're not even employed now, are you? You're just laying around mooching off Jim, right?"

"That's enough."

Both Blair and Carolyn turned to see Jim standing in the doorway of Blair's room.

"Jimmy!" Carolyn took a step away from Blair. "I didn't know you were here."

"Yeah, I know. My truck's not outside." Jim glanced at Blair. "Chief, why don't you step out on the balcony and cool off? I need to talk with Carolyn for a few minutes."

Blair took a deep breath. "We both need to just let this go, man," he muttered even as he walked towards the balcony.

Jim waited until Blair closed the balcony door behind him. Then he turned to Carolyn and put his hands on his hips. "I'll allow you some leeway and put a lot of this down to your concern about me. For which I thank you. But you need to back off."

"What?!" Carolyn demanded. "Just why is Sandburg still here after all he's done to you?"

Jim studied his ex-wife for a few moments then walked closer. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he leaned down. "I said, let it go, Carolyn. It doesn't concern you any more."

"Excuse me? I thought we were friends!" Carolyn snapped.

"And friends know when to back off. **My** friends know when to leave me alone," Jim softly explained.

"Sandburg is..."

"Don't even start," Jim warned, stepping back. "You know nothing about Sandburg. And I won't have anybody bad mouthing him in his own home."

"His home!" Carolyn snorted. "My God, Jimmy. Are you so blind? This is what he's wanted from the start! Someone to provide a roof over his head...food on the table...and probably anything else that you want to buy him."

"So you think it's just about money? You think that's the sort of person he is?" Jim quietly asked.

"Why else would he still be here?" Carolyn demanded.

"Because he's my friend. That's something you just can't imagine, can you? That I could be the sort of man that someone else would stick around for? No matter what?" Jim allowed a touch of bitterness into his voice. "I'll say this only once, Carolyn. Blair is my friend, and I am his. In fact, he's a much better friend to me than I am to him; but that's something I'm working on."

He walked to the table and retrieved Carolyn's jacket and purse. Handing them to her, he steered her towards the door. "And as far as money is concerned, Blair turned down a million dollars to publish what Berkshire and Rainier leaked to the press." He smiled at her expression. "Yeah, Carolyn...a cool million. And that was just to start. Sure he got a settlement out of them, but it wasn't anywhere near what he could have gotten if he hadn't been the friend to me that he is."

Carolyn found herself standing in the hallway, staring at her ex-husband in surprise. "Jimmy, I'm just concerned about what's going on...about you."

"Thank you," Jim half-smiled. "I appreciate it, Carolyn. I really do. Things were rough, but they're getting better." His expression hardened. "But Sandburg's my partner. And you've worked with cops long enough to know what happens if somebody tries to come between partners."

Carolyn slowly nodded, swallowing the words she wanted to say. 

Jim smiled again. "Give me a call later if you're going to be in town for a while. Maybe we can get together for lunch."

"Yeah...I'll call."

Jim nodded one final time then softly closed the door. When he turned, he saw Blair leaning against the closed balcony door.

"She was just concerned," Blair softly spoke. "I shouldn't have gotten so angry with her."

Jim shrugged. "She has to understand that her concern is misplaced."

Blair hesitated, looking away for a few seconds. "So...you guys are cool?"

Jim shrugged. "We are as far as I'm concerned. I made an offer to get together with her for lunch. It's up to her if she wants to do it."

Blair crossed his arms across his chest and walked to where Jim stood. "You know, you don't have to not be around people just because they don't like me."

Jim chuckled. "Don't flatter yourself, Sandburg."

Blair stared up at his friend for a few more seconds, then grinned. Sitting on the couch, he retrieved his magazine. Then he stared up at Jim. "My window's not getting fixed with you just standing here, Ellison."

Jim reached down and dragged Blair to his feet. Pulling the shorter man with him, he walked to the room. "I've changed my mind. You can help with the window."

"But I'm no good with power tools," Blair whined with a laugh.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**TWO WEEKS LATER**

_'Talk about déjà vu.'_ Simon Banks leaned back in chair and studied the quiet bull pen. Joel and Megan had their heads together, but he was willing to bet neither of them was discussing any of their open cases. Then he saw both Henri and Rafe glancing at Jim. _'Yep. They're all waiting.'_ Simon snorted as he swiveled his chair around to the small table behind his desk. 

Pouring a cup of coffee, Simon sighed. Sandburg was defending his thesis even as they all sat waiting for a call from the University. The young man had bluntly refused to allow anyone to go to the University with him. _'As though our presence would influence the Committee in any way.'_ Simon started to snort then caught a glimpse of Jim's stoic face as the detective walked back to his desk from the printer. _'Okay, maybe Sandburg had a point.'_

Simon sighed. He knew his other detectives had probably hatched a contingency plan if Blair's thesis defense failed. _'I wonder who's the designated sacrificial goat to be thrown in Ellison's path to slow him down so the others can stop him from getting over to Rainier to kill Blair's committee members.'_ Then he caught a sympathetic look directed at him from Rhonda and inwardly sighed. _'Guess that answers **that**.'_

Everyone jumped when the phone on Jim's desk rang. As Simon stepped out of his office, he saw that Jim was just starting at it. "You plan on answering that, Detective?"

Jim's back stiffened. "Yes, sir." Not realizing that he took a deep breath, he picked up the receiver. "Ellison. How ya doin', Chief? Yeah. Really? Imagine that. Right. See ya there." He carefully replaced the receiver and leaned back in his chair.

"Well?" Henri demanded. "C'mon, babe. Don't keep it to yourself."

Silence.

"Jim?" Simon took a step closer to Jim's desk.

"They accepted his defense. He's **Doctor** Sandburg now," Jim carefully answered.

Simon was barely aware of the whooping and hollering that exploded from the bullpen. He didn't even pay attention when Henri grabbed Megan and the two began dancing with glee. "So what's the problem?" he quietly asked Jim as he leaned against the other man's desk.

"Nothing, sir." Jim turned his attention to his computer monitor. "Not a thing."

Simon sighed. "Jim…" he prodded.

Jim hesitated, then turned to face Simon. "I'm not sure. It's what I want for him. He deserves it."

"But it is kind of final, isn't it?" Simon slowly nodded. "No more 'when he gets his degree'. He's got it now."

Jim nodded. "I told Sandburg I'd meet him at the First National Bank. Dad rented a safety deposit box for us. We need to put some stuff in there now."

"The unofficial dissertation?" Simon muttered.

Jim stood, reaching for his jacket. "I think Sandburg feels like we're burying it or something."

Simon shrugged. "Tell him it's some sort of ceremony. Sorta like a priest offering something to the gods of knowledge." He scowled at the twinkling in Jim's blue eyes. "He's an anthropologist, for God's sake! He'll figure it out."

"Yes, sir, I'm sure he will," Jim agreed. "I'll be back after lunch."

"Ellison." When Jim looked at him, Simon quietly spoke. "Sandburg's not leaving just because he got his doctorate." When Jim nodded once in response, Simon glared at the others. "All right, people! Let's get back to work!"

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Jim was amused at the deferential treatment the bank officer accorded both he and Blair. Roger Fitzgerald nearly stumbled over himself trying to ingratiate himself with both of them. 

For his part, Blair just looked at the man with a mixture of confusion and sympathy. When they were alone in the vault, he shook his head. "Your dad must have scared the crap out of him."

"What makes you say that?" Jim curiously asked.

"He's the guy who wrote me the letter about my outstanding student loans," Blair confided. "And then called me to say they'd been paid by my unknown benefactor."

_'Yeah, I bet Dad twisted him inside and out without breaking a sweat.'_ Jim shrugged, dismissing Fitzgerald as unimportant. He folded his arms across his chest as he watched Blair silently put several manuscripts into the safety deposit box. "You know, Chief, this isn't the end of the Sentinel project. You're sorta like some ancient priest, safeguarding the knowledge."

Silence.

"I'm what?"

Jim cleared his throat. "You heard me. C'mon, we need to get back to the precinct."

Blair closed the safety deposit box. "Ancient priest? Safeguarding knowledge?" He shook his head. "I gotta start paying attention again to your diet, don't I? Or have you been watching one of those stupid sword and sandal movie marathons?"

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**THREE WEEKS LATER**

"Evans, Shawn D. Sociology."

_'All Sandburg was supposed to do was help Jim learn to control his senses. Instead he infiltrated Major Crimes with all the wiles of a fox.'_ Simon glanced to his right and smiled when he saw his son, Daryl, sitting tall and proud on the uncomfortable folding chair. The teenager had developed a close relationship with Blair. Simon wondered what Daryl had thought when Blair had pronounced his dissertation a fraud. His son had never mentioned it to his father, and Simon couldn't see that Daryl's friendship with Blair had changed.

Simon looked past his son and saw Joel Taggart frowning as he stared at the object in his lap. He silently chuckled. _'Good thing we have backup.'_

"Jenkins, Ericka S. Chemistry."

_'Man, I hope my high school graduation doesn't take this long.'_ Daryl quickly glanced his father from the corner of his eye. _'Hope he plays it cool then, too. Hope he plays it cool today.'_ He gingerly flexed the fingers of his left hand. _'Hope he doesn't find out I knocked Keshawn Damron flat on his ass for shooting off his mouth.'_ Daryl sat straighter. _'Don't care if he does find out. And I'm not 'pologizin' 'bout it, neither.'_

He heard Joel's exasperated mutter and smiled. Silently, he held out his hand to the older man. "Let me," he whispered.

"McDermott, Allen H. Archeology."

_'How is it that I can disarm a sophisticated bomb, but can't load film into a camera?!'_ Joel closed his eyes and silently counted to ten. Then he took a deep breath and eyed the camera in his lap. _'When did these things get so difficult, anyway?'_ Joel knew there would be plenty of pictures, but he wanted to take the best ones.

_'Now isn't that something, Joel Taggart? It's not like Sandburg's your kid.'_ Joel stopped for a moment, remembering how Blair had helped him regain his nerve while Joel was still in the Bomb Squad. And the younger man had been one of the first to welcome him to Major Crimes upon his transfer. _'Blair means a lot to me. And I intend for him to have the best pictures possible.'_

Sighing, he started down at the camera and frowned. Then he saw Daryl reach for the camera. With a smile of relief, he gave it to the teenager. He then glared at Henri Brown who sat next to him, snickering under his breath.

"Mendez, Juan R. Mathematics."

_'Oh, Taggart. The more complicated the camera, the harder it is to get good pictures. Betcha my little disposable camera does just a good a job as that new expensive one of yours.'_ Grinning in silent satisfaction, Henri idly played with the small camera in his hand. _'And the party's gonna be a blast! This is one time that Hairboy's gonna cut it loose and blow off all that steam. And I can't wait to get out of this monkey suit!'_ He glared at his partner who sat to his left. _'Unlike **some** people!'_

"Phillips, Rita J. History."

Rafe caught the glare from his partner and snickered under his breath. _'Wearing a dress suit is just a matter of style and attitude. Ever think that's why the DA tends to put me on the stand rather than you, H? You look far too uncomfortable in a suit, and that makes you look unsure of yourself.'_

Rafe innocently smiled at his partner, then caught the warning frown thrown in his direction by a stern-faced Simon Banks.

_'Now Sandburg...he's comfortable everywhere,'_ Rafe mused as he faced forward. _'Who would've thought?'_

"Richardson, Peter W. Criminal Justice."

Megan caught a glimpse of Blair and inwardly sighed. _'Just a little too much pomp and circumstance for the occasion to my way of thinking. Poor guy. He's got about as much color as he does after riding with Jimbo on one of his high-speed chases!'_ She casually glanced at the older man sitting next to her then back at the stage. _'I guess Jimbo's made up with his family. Probably Sandy's influence, too. I can't imagine it happening otherwise.'_

"Ryan, Christopher M. English Literature."

William Ellison smiled to himself in pride. He'd always been proud of Jim even when they weren't speaking to one another. He caught his son's eye for a brief moment and knew his older son was still surprised to see him in attendance. _'I suppose the day I stop surprising either of my sons is the day I'll have dropped dead. 'Course if that happens when I'm in bed with a beautiful lady, I'll still have managed to surprise them.'_ Remembering the beautiful woman he'd recently met at a charity auction, he suddenly smiled. _'Oh, yeah, Ellison. You've still got it.'_

"Salyers, Amy B. Education."

Stephen Ellison, sitting next to his father, frowned at the smile on his father's face. _'Now what's he up to?'_ He saw Jim looking at him, and he shrugged. _'Not my problem, brother. Not yours either. Today we party and celebrate.'_

"Sammonds, Elliot S. Computer Science."

_'Wonder if Sandburg ever found out about the pool where he either gets a new partner, gets a new roommate, breaks my jaw, or rearranges my innards with one of his potions? I think Connor has that one.'_ Seeing his father and brother in the audience still surprised Jim. He knew they were there not only for Blair but for him as well. _'It's not happening the way it should have been. But then…maybe it's happening the way it needs to be.'_

"Sandburg, Blair J. Anthropology."

_'Oh, God, don't let me hyperventilate or anything else. Don't embarrass everybody. Wish Naomi was here. Mom, I really want things to be right between us.'_

Blair felt his anxiety and concerns slipping away as he reached out his left hand and accepted his diploma. As he shook Chancellor Edwards' hand, he noted her false smile and cold eyes. Smiling, he gently squeezed her hand. "Have a nice day. I intend to have a good life."

As he walked across the stage, he looked into the audience and grinned at his friends. He momentarily posed as Daryl and Henri took pictures.

None were aware of the man in the back of the room who took his own pictures.


End file.
